


The Thing oneshots!

by Hawaiian_shirt_daddy



Category: The Thing (1982)
Genre: F/M, Hickeys, Hurt/Comfort, I really don't know how to tag, I'm classy what can I say, I'm really self concious about writing, I'm sorry again, I've never read hurt/comfort, Just comfort, Kissing, More tags as the chapters go, Smoking, again sorry if I'm trash, ahhhhh, all I read is smut, first fic so don't @ me, i think, not really hurt tbh, should I capitalize this shit, still learning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:02:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27721112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawaiian_shirt_daddy/pseuds/Hawaiian_shirt_daddy
Summary: As the title says, this will be oneshots for The Thing (1982)! This is my first attempt at posting fanfiction, but I have 100% written fanfiction and it's all shoved into my phone but has not seen the light of day cause I'm a nervous wreck. Enjoy if you'd like!
Relationships: Palmer (The Thing)/Reader, Reader/Everyone
Comments: 7
Kudos: 12





	The Thing oneshots!

You were supposed to be heading to your room for the night, but curiosity got the better of you when you heard the sound of a lighter clicking from the storage room.

Garry always told you that if he caught you out of bed at a late hour, he would make sure it would affect your job. Which seemed entirely unfair, but that's how Garry ran things and you had to do as he said. And though hesitant, you always did as he said. Except at this moment, when you were especially curious.

So instead of walking forward, you turned on your heel and made your way through the hall. The darkness that loomed through the hall was brightened just a little by a single light bulb -dimmed from use- hanging from the ceiling. 

The sight was eerie. A lone, dim light bulb in a hall with only two doors. One lead to the storage room, your destination, and the other lead to God knows where. You were still learning your way around U.S. Outpost 31.

You crept up to the slightly ajar door of the storage room and though the room was dark, grey swirls of smoke were visible throughout the room. An exhale followed by more smoke confirmed that it was someone smoking -and the smell was clearly the smell of weed- so that determined that it was either Palmer or Childs.

Pushing the door open and sliding into the room, it was revealed to be Palmer, sitting on the stone floor by his lonesome with a joint held between his fingers. He looked up and saluted to you with two fingers before taking another drag. "Hey, [Y/n]," he exhaled, smoke curling over his lips and up into the air. 

Palmer patted the ground next to him, so you went over, closing the door behind you, and sat down.

"What are you doing in here?" You asked. You knew Childs smoked too -and they were roommates- so he couldn't be trying to hide it. He could easily do this in his room.

"Childs said he has a stuffy nose or something," he said. "So being the good friend that I am, I came here to unwind instead of our room."

Your backs were leaning against the stone wall, definitely making you cooler. The mechanic passed you the joint, and hoping that it might warm you up, you accepted it and took a long drag. The smoke filled your lungs and a loud cough escaped your lips. Palmer gave a little chuckle, but quickly put a hand over your mouth to quiet you.

"Careful. Wouldn't want Garry to hear us, would you?"

You shook your head, still coughing, though them being muffled by Palmer's hand, they weren't as loud. 

As he removed his hand, you regained yourself and tried again. This time, you choked less, much to Palmers approval.

"So," he said, taking the joint back. "Why are you in here?"

The air was getting thick, and you felt as though you were drowning in a sea of smoke. Words tried to form, but you were so focused on the smoke in the air that you forgot how to speak. Until Palmer's hand appeared in front of your face with a snap, bringing you back to reality.

"Sorry," you mumbled. "I, um... I heard you and was curious who would be in here at this time."

He nodded, as if he weren't really paying attention to what you were saying. You started to wonder how long he'd been in here and snatched the joint from his hands, and after a few puffs, you spoke about puppies.

Almost an hour of sitting in silence, passing the weed back and forth between each other, and you finally opened your mouth to speak. But all that came out was a little whine. You drowsily lied your head down on the mechanics shoulder, to which he seemed surprised. But what caught the man off guard wasn't your use of him as a pillow, but when he felt a drop of liquid on the top of his hand, and he realized you were crying.

"What's wrong, [Y/n]?" He asked.

"I don't know. My eyes just keep sweating and they won't stop."

Sweating? How cute, he thought. You were really adorable high. Compared to how you normally were, he found this you highly enjoyable. Sober, you were very rule abiding and didn't hesitate to tell off one of the guys for fooling around. It really got on his nerves and he actually didn't like you regularly, doing any means necessary to avoid you. Another Garry, he told himself, but a woman and a hell of a lot sexier.

Of course, what Palmer didn't know was that you hated being like that. You'd like to disobey the rules once in a while, or stop ruining the guys' fun and join them. But you were afraid to lose your job at the hands of silly things, so you did what you were told.

It took Palmer a minute to register what you said after his thoughts invaded his focus. Something about spitting maybe? Whatever it was you asked, he replied with the first thing to pop into his fuzzy head, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Palmer," you said slowly. "I don't even know why I'm crying, it's like I can't even feel it."

He wrapped his arm around your back and gently caressed your shoulder. You smiled against his neck, the scent of him you couldn't quite decipher, but you liked it. It was unique. 

Feeling a sudden wave of emotion, you pulled yourself onto Palmer's lap and whined into his shirt. You couldn't quite remember what the emotion you were feeling was called, but it was terrible. Your heart hurt and the tears wouldn't stop falling from your warm face. All you wanted was comfort, so you got as close to Palmer as you could.

And he reciprocated, holding you in his arms tighter than he thought he could while stoned. "It's okay, [Y/n]," he said quietly. His voice was so soft and gentle, very unusual for him. 

And this made you feel something you also couldn't remember the name of. But instead of the hurting feeling, you felt warm and fuzzy inside, and confident you could do anything.

And without hesitation, you kissed his pale neck once, then twice, then began sucking on it. For whatever reason, you were determined to give him a dark hickey, just to play with him so he'd have to find a way to hide it the next day. In the back of your head, you had kind of wished you didn't do that because you knew someone would see it and you knew they would know it was you, but that also excited you even more and made you wanna risk it. 

Oh, what the hell. You were high, and hopefully being high was like being drunk, that way you wouldn't remember the next day anyways.

He must've thought about someone seeing it too, because he tried pushing you off, despite his groan of pleasure. "Babe, how am I gonna hide this?"

"I don't know, you find a way," you whispered against his jawline. The little hairs on his neck stood up on end to this and you gave his jaw a peck. 

Palmer had his head back against the wall and his eyes were only just open. And tired of kissing his neck, you brought your lips to his.

It was a lazy and sloppy kiss, what with both of you being stoned as fuck. But you didn't really realise how gross it probably looked, as you were hooked on the feeling.

The feeling of your lips on his was something you'd been wanting since you arrived at the base, but of course, you'd never admit that to yourself. You thought about what it would be like to be held by him late at night, and wished so hard for him to have the same thoughts.

But he did. The mechanic was enjoying it too. He had these thoughts every night, and not just because you were the only girl in Antarctica either. No, because he genuinely found you attractive. Because your eyes lit up every time he told a stupid joke. Because the feeling of your soft hands on him when you placed a bandaid on a cut warmed his heart. Because you actually cared about him.

Yes, he didn't like you most of the time, but those little things showed him that you were more than just a strict mini Garry. He appreciated that. But he figured you didn't realize.

You didn't realize, but oh, Jesus! You did realize how his touch was something you definitely didn't expect to feel so good.

His hands were pulling your thighs closer to him and rubbing circles on them. He bit your lip, making you cry out, but that was the last thing you did that night. 

As tired as you were, you passed out on his chest, and he brushed his hand across your hair to get it out of your face. 

Palmer was tempted to just do the same as you and fall asleep right there, but Garry would scream about this for the rest of the winter if he found neither of you in your rooms, let alone together. So with all the strength and energy he could muster, the man stood up and lifted you into his arms. 

Wow, she's heavy, he thought. But he knew you weren't really that heavy. The weed made him weak, he had to remind himself.

His shaky legs carried himself and you back through the hall and to your room. A few times he almost toppled over, leaning against the wall for support, but he wouldn't give up. And he didn't.

He brought you to your room and kissed you goodnight, but you were fast asleep and didn't notice. As he began to leave the room, he smiled at you and chuckled. You were so high, you probably wouldn't remember much of what happened, but he was certain he would remember. If he didn't, he would forget that your favorite dog breed is a golden retriever, and he couldn't forget something like that.

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm not the best writer. I think I try too hard when I'm writing characters thoughts but idk. Constructive criticism is accepted, but obviously don't be an ass. My reaction to constructive criticism is a doozy, I want it but when I get it I feel like the person who gives it hates me and thinks I'm trash... don't even ask, I hate that about me too.
> 
> But hey, I'm not here to rant. So I hope you enjoyed this, I will say that I had fun writing it! I'm so nervous to post this lol 👉👈
> 
> I will add later chapters, I just don't have set days to post them so don't expect a routine postage. Thanks for reading!
> 
> P.S. give me suggestions for chapters if you want.


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